


The Slow Knife

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Knotting, M/M, Rimming, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1290367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hand clamps over Tony’s mouth to stop his scream, shoving him back against a tree and holding his hands behind his back in a single iron-tight grip. Then Tony’s looking into the calmly superior eyes of Justin Hammer. Immediately Tony snaps at the hand over his mouth with sharp incisors and Justin hisses at the sharp sting, grabbing onto his jaw instead and getting a better grip on the hands behind his back. </p><p>Tony spits in his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Slow Knife

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on the kind meme (kind of went a bit off-topic sorry!!): Let's go with college AU - Any (either Steve, Clint, or Bruce) is a senior and Alpha, happily going out with their omega freshman boyfriend Tony. But, what Any doesn't know is that Justin, an aggressive Alpha freshman, has been stalking and taunting Tony for days now. Then one day Tony comes home, and Any can smell something /off/ about Tony before he even opens the door. Then he sees the red eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, and messed up clothes, and Any is immediately holding Tony close, asking what happened even though the foreign smell makes everything click horribly into place. Buckets of comfort for Tony please.
> 
> +1000 if you decide to go with a slightly smuttier path, and have Any take good care of Tony, holding him close afterwards while knotted and just letting his scent wash over Tony and overpower Justin's.
> 
> (I totally went with the smuttier path :D)

There’s a knock on their door at the ass-crack of dawn and Tony rolls out of the bohemian-style pillow nest that dominates his side of the bed to elbow Bruce awake.

“Your turn,” he mumbles groggily and Bruce grumbles in his sleep. When Bruce doesn’t move Tony cracks an open to stare at his mate bleary eyed and is immediately warmed by the sight of Bruce sprawled out on his more normal looking side of the bed with his hair in complete disarray. He looks so cute Tony almost isn’t cruel enough to wake him. Almost.

Tony slaps his arm and Bruce jolts awake. 

“What the hell,” he mutters sleepily.

Tony grins into Bruce’s shoulder. “Your turn,” he repeats.

On cue, the knocking starts up again and Bruce kisses his forehead before he slips out of bed to get the door. 

Tony rolls over to snuggle back into his nest of pillows and he’s half asleep before Bruce crawls back in beside him. Bruce’s hand finds his him in the dark and Tony smiles at the sensation of fingers gliding over his hip like in a dream. 

“Who was that?” he asks on an appreciative sigh as those calloused fingers wander lower. 

“Hm. Friend of yours,” Bruce says against his neck, moist lips trailing soft kisses down Tony’s neck, bringing him closer and closer to consciousness.

Tony hums, winding his legs around Bruce’s waist and feeling big, warm hands skate up his sides. “You’ll have to be more specific,” he says, laughing when Bruce’s hand finds a ticklish spot under his ribs. 

“Some guy from your Intro Bio, Justin I think. Justin Hammer.” Tony freezes completely, his mind stuttering to a halt and Bruce continues unawares, “he didn’t exactly stop by long enough to introduce himself.” Bruce smiles into his skin and Tony focuses on keeping his breathing even because _holy shit_ this is not good. “I think I intimidated him,” 

Tony laughs and if it’s a bit shaky he can pass it off as a reaction to the way Bruce’s hips are slotting against his just right. “Oh yes Dr. Banner. You’re very intimidating.”

Bruce rolls them over and cages Tony’s arms above his head. “I can be,” he says lightly.

Tony grins up at him. “You are about as intimidating as a wet cat.”

“Most people wouldn’t agree with you.”

“Most people don’t know you like I do.”

Bruce smiles down at him and drags a thumb across his lower lip. “You’re sweet.”

Tony snorts and takes his thumb between his teeth, biting playfully. “No I’m not. I have in fact been told on more than one occasion that I couldn’t be further away from sweet if I was on Pluto.”

Bruce hums noncommittally. “Maybe Mars,” he concedes. “Also—not a doctor.”

“Only a matter of time,” Tony says confidently, running a hand through Bruce’s unruly bed hair. “How’s your thesis going?”

Bruce cocks an eyebrow. “You want to talk about my thesis?”

Tony would talk about female circumcision if it stopped Bruce from remembering to ask about Justin Hammer. “Yep.”

“Really?” Bruce looks sceptical and rolls his hips against Tony’s to prove a point, catching his appreciative sigh in a _very_ thorough kiss. “You’re sure?” he asks when he pulls back.

“Some other time maybe,” Tony says a little breathlessly, surging up to kiss Bruce hard and not even a little bit sweet. 

They trade deep kisses, rutting against each other slow and a little heavy-eyed in the early morning. Bruce kisses him like he’s something precious and Tony wonders how he could have ever gotten so lucky to have found an Alpha like Bruce. They come with each other’s names on their lips and Tony lets Bruce clean them both with a wet wash cloth after they’re done, smiling at the way he fusses over the bruise marks on his hips.

“You’re hurt,” Bruce says regretfully, leaning down to kiss each thumb sized mark.

Tony would roll his eyes at the idea of these bruises being classified as an _injury_ if Bruce didn’t sound so heartbreakingly sincere about it. “I feel wonderfully relaxed actually, due in no small part to you if you remember,” he says instead of _and I really really like it_. God knows that wouldn’t go down well even though every omega he knows enjoys marking as much, if not more, than he does.

“I don’t like hurting you.”

Tony sits up on his knees and takes Bruce’s face in his hands where he’s half-perched on the edge of the mattress. “And that’s why I trust you. You’d never hurt me where it counted Bruce.”

Bruce searches his eyes for the truth, because they both know Tony has been less than honest about things like this in the past to preserve Bruce’s feelings, before breaking away, apparently satisfied with his sincerity. 

Bruce sighs to himself, shaking his head ruefully. “You’re too good to me Tony. If my control slips again…”

“Hey,” Tony says, almost a growl. “Don’t be unfair to yourself. You know that was just as much my fault as yours. I led her on. You reclaimed what was yours. It was pretty much textbook scent-marking and you’re the only one still beating yourself up over it.”

“I left scars Tony,” Bruce says low and hard, almost a snarl.

Tony shrugs. “And I like them.”

Bruce runs a frustrated hand over his face and slumps. “I’m not going to get anywhere with this am I?”

“Nope!” Tony says cheerfully and despite his mood Bruce gives him a fond little smile. 

Tony ropes him into a kiss which Bruce protests for all of two seconds before kissing back. Tony rests their heads together, grinning blindingly. “Ready for the day doctor?”

Bruce looks out the crack in their curtains to catch the sun rising over the trees and nods. “You want breakfast?” Tony gives him a look and Bruce chuckles. “Okay stupid question. I’ll make omelettes.”

“I knew there was a reason I loved you,” Tony says happily and Bruce laughs, rusty and low, kissing him quickly before pulling on a shirt and track pants. Tony watches Bruce leave with an appreciative gaze before he drags himself off to have a shower. 

When he gets out he can smell chives and bacon. Tony makes his way into the kitchen of their little studio apartment and nearly trips on the upturned corner of the rug. “ _Sonofabitch_ ,” he hisses, flailing a little madly to catch himself.

Bruce smiles, turning out the second omelette and carrying the plates over to the kitchen table. “Every morning,” he says to himself fondly.

Tony glares balefully from where he’s hopping on one foot, holding the toe he rammed into the coffee table. “You’d think as someone who watches me endure this horrible injury every morning you’d be more supportive,” he says and can’t quite keep the pout out of his voice.

“Get over here and I’ll rub your foot,” Bruce offers, sounding put-upon, but he’s smiling which Tony counts as a win.

Tony limps over and Bruce snorts. “Stop hobbling Tony you can walk just fine.”

Tony slips easily into a casual stroll and sits down beside Bruce, plopping his feet into his lap. “You never let me have any fun,” he whines. 

“Please. If anything I let you have too much. I might as well have door-mat tattooed on my forehead for how little I pull you up for.” 

Tony grins. “And that’s why you’re the perfect alpha.”

Bruce looks at him knowingly. “Because I let you get away with things?”

“Because you don’t think you have the god given right to stop me,” Tony says and Bruce blinks at him in surprise.

“I wouldn’t ever,” he says simply and Tony loves him for it.

“And there you go again, proving my point exactly,” Tony says fondly before wiggling his feet around to get Bruce’s attention. “Now rub my feet.”

Bruce rolls his eyes at him, but they’re soft and gentle, indulging. Bruce digs a thumb into the arch of Tony’s heel, cradling his foot gently with the other hand and Tony sighs, tipping his head back. 

“God that’s good,” Tony moans.

Bruce smiles. “Eat your breakfast.”

\--

Tony doesn’t remember about Justin until the guy is standing over him blocking his light where he’s tanning, reclined on the hill outside his Neuro classroom. 

“Tony Stark,” comes the alpha’s too-intimate address.

Tony flicks his sunglasses down and gives Justin his best _fuck off_ smile over the rim. “Justin,” he answers, spitting the word like bile.

Justin either doesn’t notice his reaction to his presence or doesn’t care because he flops down beside Tony just close enough to put him on edge, but far enough away not to draw attention to them out in public. 

“I want to speak to you,” he says.

“You didn’t seem to want to talk this morning,” Tony says flatly, noting the way Justin grits his teeth at the mention his early morning encounter with his mate. “Bruce says you took off pretty fast.”

“Ah yes, Bruce Banner. What an… _Interesting_ choice for an alpha. Not someone I would have pictured you with Tony.”

Tony doesn’t like the way he says _interesting_ like he wants to say something else entirely. He doesn’t like it at all.

Tony gives him his meanest sneer, the one that makes the biggest, dumbest alpha’s whimper and run crying to their mothers. “And you’ve pictured me with a lot of people have you?” 

“Oh no. Just me,” Justin says and then looks at Tony like he has every right to undress Tony and fuck him right here on the hill and it’s only benevolence that’s holding him back. 

Tony wants to punch that look off of his smug, entitled fucking face.

“Well keep dreaming buddy,” Tony says cheerfully enough, standing quickly and smoothing down his clothes. He swings his satchel over his shoulder and flicks his glasses back down. Giving Justin a salute, Tony says in his most genuine tone, “If I see you never it will be too fucking soon.”

Then he’s off, striding down the hill and into his Neuro lecture with the other overwhelmed looking first years. He can feel Justin’s eyes on him the whole way, but if the prick thinks that’s enough to frighten Tony Stark he’s got another thing coming. Justin Hammer of all people is never going to intimidate him into bed. 

Tony sits through his three hour lecture entirely confident the situation has been dealt with.

\--  
It’s not until the next week when’s he’s coming back from the library with the sun setting over the trees that Tony realises he may have been a tad overconfident about the whole situation. Or more accurately he may have underestimated the lengths an insane stalker will go to to see him with his legs spread, or perhaps in pieces shoved inside a plastic bag-- his read on the guy isn’t the best. Tony’s honestly not sure which one he’d prefer given that said stalker is Justin Hammer.

It’s almost dark outside and Tony’s dead tired. Exams are next week and he’s spent so long staring at his Neuro textbook he wouldn’t be surprised if his eyes started bleeding. So he’s not really concentrating on anything but keeping his eyes open long enough to get home when a hand shoots out from behind a tree and pulls him into the bushes.

The hand clamps over Tony’s mouth to stop his scream, shoving him back against a tree and holding his hands behind his back in a single iron-tight grip. Then Tony’s looking into the calmly superior eyes of Justin Hammer. Immediately Tony snaps at the hand over his mouth with sharp incisors and Justin hisses at the sharp sting, grabbing his jaw instead and getting a better grip on the hands behind his back. 

Tony spits in his face.

Justin doesn’t leap back like Tony was hoping he would. Instead he smiles slowly, spittle dripping down his cheek and onto Tony’s own shirt they’re pressed so tightly together. And now that he’s focusing on it Tony can feel a suspicious hardness pressing into his hip.

“Oh gross,” Tony mutters, grimacing—like he wants _that_ anywhere near him. 

He almost gags when Justin leans in to lick a wet stripe up his throat and nose at the skin behind his ear. Tony tries to head-butt him, but the hand on his jaw does its job. Tony grits his teeth and begins searching for a way out of this, not liking at all the way he’s rubbing against Tony like this is all just creepy elaborate foreplay.

Justin chuckles. “Hello Tony.”

“Oh is it never already? Too bad really. I was hoping I had another _infinity_ before I had to see your ugly mug again,” Tony sneers.

“Trying to wound my vanity Tony? I’m disappointed. I thought you were smarter than that,” he says, honey smooth and a little dangerous. He nips at his throat and Tony recoils—or tries to—the fucker has a solid grip. Justin sighs happily. “Oh but I did miss you.”

Tony’s heartbeat ratchets up another few bpm’s and he lets out a bitter laugh. “You can’t miss something you never had.”

“We’ll get to that soon,” Justin promises and Tony feels his heart sink. Justin pushes Tony’s hands further behind his back and Tony’s fingers brush something solid in his jeans pocket. His phone, Tony realises, and a plan starts taking shape in his head. “First you must be good and let me taste you. Can you do that Tony?” Justin purrs and there’s too much bile in Tony’s throat to say anything.

Justin must appreciate his non-answer because he says “good boy,” and starts sucking marks under Tony’s jaw. Tony does his best to ignore the sickening sensations and instead focuses on the bark at his back and how close his fingers are to the top of his pocket.

Tony manages to twist his fingers around enough to reach inside and grab a single ear of the stupid pooh-bear charm Bruce had affixed to the top of his phone on their first date after he’d won a consolation prize in the duck-shooting game at the arcade. Tony almost cries he’s so relieved Bruce sucks at shooting games. The phone slides out of his pocket slowly and he fumbles with slipping the phone into his palm. Tony holds his breath at the sound of metal scraping again bark, but it looks like Justin is well and truly distracted by Tony’s neck now because he only looks up long enough to give a sickly sweet smile before going back to his task.

Tony is so going to punch him in the face when he gets out of this.

Shaking fingers key in the lock combination from memory and hover over the number two. One is his mother otherwise Bruce would be one on his speed-dial, but two is much easier to reach with his hands behind his back so Tony sends a quick thank you to the techno-gods for his luck before dialling. 

He can’t hear Bruce when he picks up, but he feels the phone stop vibrating. 

“So you’re going to do this right here in public then are you?” Tony asks mockingly, loud enough that Bruce will hear. “You’re going to rape me right outside the library where anyone could see us? Smart plan big guy, but then I suppose your kind has never been known for their _brains_.”

Justin stops sucking on his neck-- and god Tony must be black and blue by now—and looks at Tony slyly. “Of course not. That would be moronic. I’m going to take you back to my room to knot you.”

And god Tony didn’t think he could feel more ill than he did before. “That’s really not going to work out,” Tony says.

“And why’s that?”

Tony grins at him, all teeth. “Because if you think I’m the type to just roll over and let you fucking _rape_ me you’re dreaming Hammer. I’ll tear you to pieces you fucking creep.”

Justin _laughs_ and if that doesn’t piss Tony off royally, his next words definitely do. “You’re an omega Tony. What can you do to me?”

Hammer proves this point by using his superior strength to lift Tony off his feet, the hand around his wrists strapping his forearms to his back. His arm is like a steel band and the new position has Tony arching with a pained cry, dropping his phone into the bushes. He can only hope Bruce has heard enough to be able to find him. 

The world spins around him as the hand at his jaw moves to his throat and cuts off his air supply. Tony gasps, hands clenching and unclenching behind his back as he fights for air. Justin laughs and noses at the chorded tended of his straining throat.

“Beautiful,” he sighs happily. “Gorgeous when you struggle Tony.”

Once his face starts turning blue Justin lets go of his throat and Tony sucks in great big gulps of air like a starving man. “Fuck you,” he bites out when he can talk again.

Hammer just laughs and gets back to work marking him—point proven.

Tony tries very hard not to feel helpless.

Finally Tony sees headlights pull up behind their cluster of bushes and two armed police officers get out of the vehicle, spotting them almost immediately. They creep forward silently and Tony sneers down at Justin Hammer with the utmost disdain.

“Times up fucker,” he says.

Justin looks up from where he’s sucking on Tony’s collarbone and a sickeningly indulgent smile twists his face. “What are you talking abou--”

Justin spasms and drops to the ground. The cop not holding the taser strides forward to cuff him and read him his Miranda rights while he’s groaning on the ground. Tony slumps gratefully against the tree and turns his poisonous eyes on Justin who’s being hauled to his feet by the first police officer.

Tony momentarily contemplates seeing if he can get in quick and punch Hammer in his fucking face but decides against it when cop number two starts watching him like he knows exactly what’s going through his mind.

“I hope you choke on dick and die in prison you sick fuck,” Tony says instead with a mean little smile and Justin blanches satisfyingly, the realities of the situation catching up with him. 

The second police officer comes towards him. “Are you alright sir?”

Tony nods and he answers a few of the man’s cursory questions before he leaves with his partner and Hammer in tow. It’s not until the squad car pulls away that Tony notices the other very familiar car parked behind.

Tony runs and doesn’t care how ridiculous he looks. He’d know that faded green sedan anywhere. 

Tony hurls himself into Bruce’s waiting arms, throwing them both back into the driver’s side door. Bruce’s hand finds his hair and his other arm locks around Tony securely, holding him to his body with desperate strength. Bruce is saying something into his hair, Tony knows, but he’s far too focused on having his arms around his mate again to hear anything but his thrumming heartbeat under his ear. 

“TonyTony _Tony_ ,” Bruce is saying like a mantra and Tony relaxes, so relieved to finally feel safe again. To see Bruce and feel all of his warm, solid strength against his shaking body—and oh god he’s actually shaking isn’t he? Bruce pulls back only far enough to wipe the tears from his cheeks—and since when is he _crying_ exactly? Tony hasn’t cried since he was six and his garage-made propulsion engine blew up in his face. 

“You’re okay,” Bruce says to himself, touching his face all over, then again like he can’t stop, “You’re _okay_.”

Tony rests their foreheads together and lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah I’m okay.”

Then Bruce is staring at something, face twisting into the beginnings of a furious snarl and Tony flinches in shame when he sees that it’s the creative hickey trail winding down from his ear to his collarbones. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Bruce sees his reaction and his expression clears completely. “ _You_ have nothing to apologise for. That fucking disgrace of an alpha on the other hand…if I _ever_ get my hands on him, well, let’s just says there was a reason I stayed in the car. ” Bruce says and actually growls. Tony feels a jolt of lust move through him.

Bruce smells it immediately of course and he looks at Tony probingly. Tony tries not to fidget under his gaze, but he can feel himself getting hotter the longer Bruce looks at him. 

“Let’s get you home,” Bruce says finally and there’s something different about his eyes, some hidden emotion that Tony can’t identify beyond _want_ , but it’s so much deeper than that—whatever it is.

Tony swallows. “Okay.”

Tony lets himself be led to the passenger’s side door and buckled in, smiling at the way Bruce fusses over the lock on the door. They drive home in silence, but Bruce keeps a hand on his knee, his thigh, clasping his hand as if to reassure himself Tony is here with him and safe. As for Tony, the contact soothes his jangled nerves. The shock had mostly passed by now and in its place Tony feels an unsettling. A feeling like he’s adrift at sea, lost and confused inside his own body. His body doesn’t feel healthy anymore, it feel _tainted_ and not in the way people associate with sexual assault. 

It’s a mystery to Tony and an annoying one at that. He really thought he knew everything there is to know about his body before now. God knows he’s had enough time to explore it—his late teens were a haze of wild parties and one night stands up until he found Bruce. 

Tony has no idea what the hell it’s up to now though.

It’s not until they reach the apartment that Tony realises that’s it’s his _scent_ that’s off—that’s tainted. 

_Tainted by that sick fuck Hammer_ , his mind supplies and all of a sudden he realises how hot he’s become since the moment he threw himself into Bruce’s arms.

Bruce is washing last night’s dishes, perhaps sensing he needs some time to himself and Tony is immensely grateful for it, walking quickly to the bathroom to shower. He strips efficiently and doesn’t look at himself in the mirror. Stepping under the cold spray takes the edge off of the rising heat and Tony sighs in relief. He scrubs himself thoroughly, wiping away all traces of that fucking creep’s scent from his skin until he feels fresh and clean, his natural scent curling around him like a favourite blanket.

Tony steps out of the shower and towels himself off, wrapping it around his waist after he’s done. Only then does he look in the mirror.

His neck is a disaster zones with only a few small patches of unmarked skin standing out pink against angry red. His jaw is worse, almost completely blue and the sharp juts of his collarbones are covered in distinct purplish bite marks that make Tony flinch more than any of the others. At least he could pretend the other marks were Bruce’s. He knows Bruce’s mouth too well to be fooled by these vicious, claiming marks. 

Tony bows his head against the cool glass and tries not to feel sick. It’s easier than he would of thought with that strange warmth coiling in his abdomen, radiating out to all of his limbs and burning him from the inside out. If it hadn’t come on so fast and it wasn’t completely off schedule he might even think it was…

Tony smells Bruce before he sees him so he’s prepared when arms slide around his waist, a hard, strong body slotting in behind him.

“You don’t smell like him anymore,” Bruce notes and a lot of the tension leaks out of his body.

“Thank god,” Tony mutters and feels Bruce press a kiss to the back of his neck, pausing to sniff long and deep.

“Your heat,” Bruce says, voice lower than usual.

Tony startles. “Not for another month,” he says, confused why Bruce would be asking.

“No Tony, you’re _in_ heat. Now.”

“That’s not possible,” he says automatically but Bruce stays suspiciously silent and Tony remembers that nuclear physics is only one of the doctorates he is working on, biology running a close second. “Is it?” Tony asks, slightly alarmed by the possibility.

"You were scent marked by another alpha. It's...possible that you body has induced a heat to ensure you are properly reclaimed," Bruce says tentatively and Tony sucks in a sharp breath. 

"Right," he breathes. "Of _fucking_ course it did."

Now that's he's aware of it Tony can feel the tell-tale signs of heat: the risen glands in his throat and under his arms, the muscles spasms, the slickness between his legs. It won't be long before he's completely submerged in heat and Tony spares a bitter thought for Justin fucking Hammer and his very clever plan. No doubt the fucking _biology major_ \--and shit he should have seen that one coming-- was planning to rape him when he was too out of his mind to resist. Fucking dickhead.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce says, sounding genuinely contrite and Tony turns in the circle of his arms, suddenly anxious to reassure him that his negative thoughts have nothing to do with him. Tony knows that tone. That’s the _I’m going to make your problems my fault_ tone and Tony is not having any of that shit.

“Don’t be,” Tony says firmly, cupping his cheek. “It’s no chore for me. Not with you.” He smirks. “I actually rather enjoy it.”

Bruce looks at him sadly. “That’s not what I’m worried about. I don’t want to push you further than you’re prepared to go right now. It’s not been an easy day for you and I don’t want to be associated with that kind of…negativity.”

Tony rears back angrily, pulling out of his arms to glare at Bruce. “Don’t you ever _ever_ put yourself in the same category as that jerk Bruce. You are _nothing_ like him,” he says forcefully. 

“I’m an alpha,” Bruce says quietly.

“And you’d never hurt me like he has,” Tony says, sure as he’s always been, sure as he’ll ever be of anything in his life. “ _Never_.”

“Tony…”

Tony steps forward and his scent makes Bruce’s hands clench and his eyes darken with want. 

“Please Bruce, I _need_ you,” Tony whispers, heat making him shudder all over and wetness stream inside his body. “I can’t do this by myself.”

To his credit Bruce only hesitates a moment before he takes the last step bridging the distance between them. Grabbing Tony under the thighs he hoists him up and Tony immediately wraps his legs around his waist. Bruce pushes him up against the wall and Tony gasps, immediately caught up in a hard kiss that steals the air right out of his mouth again. Tony moans and clings to Bruce’s shoulders like a lifeline, head spinning with heat so he’s only vaguely aware when Bruce starts walking them towards the bedroom, mouths still locked together easy and necessary as breathing. 

Laying Tony down on the bed, Bruce rips his towel off with an animal growl that makes Tony shudder all over and feel like the absolute best kind of meal. Bruce noses behind his unmarked ear to nip and hesitates at the marks on his neck before he licks over them in broad stripes, moulding his scent to Tony’s skin and making Tony feel beautifully, deliciously claimed so that the last vestiges of that sick tainted feeling fade away to be replaced by intense, naked _want_. 

Bruce spends some time inlaying his scent, reclaiming what is his and Tony lets the sensations of soft lips and wet tongue overtake him, the smell of Bruce's own heady scent mingling with his own bringing with it a feeling of comfort, of _rightness_ that was missing up until now. Tony sighs as the sensuality of it all and feels impossibly safe and comforted in his arms.

Then Bruce moves downwards and Tony can feel his sudden surge of _intent_.

Tony cries out when Bruce’s tongue finds his nipples and he can feel him smile against his skin. 

“Shut up,” Tony huffs and Bruce laughs lowly. 

“If you can still speak I must be doing this wrong,” Bruce says and then takes his right nipple between his teeth, biting _just so_ while his fingers scrape across his areola and Tony’s gone, arching off the bedspread with a moan. 

Without warning Tony is flipped onto his stomach and Bruce's shirtless body covers him, kissing down his neck to the top of his spine.

An open palm runs down his stomach to curl lightly against his hipbone. Long, grasping fingers find purchase and pull him back against a smooth muscled chest. A soft, amused chuckle breathed hotly against the sensitive shell of his ear as a clever tongue maps the uncharted area behind. Tony moans into the bed sheets, feeling deliciously trapped by the body anchoring him to the bed. 

Sly fingers wander further downwards and the hand curled around his hip guides his knees to bend, causing his ass to shift backwards and come into further glorious contact with the hot line of his Bruce’s erection, hard and thick in his pants. Tony moans and arches further, palms pushing flat against the mattress, stretching into the line of heat behind him like a well fed cat. 

Bruce rumbles low in his chest and Tony can feel it against his back. He gives a satisfied groan. Bruce’s hand tightens again upon hearing it and grinds him back harder, cock sliding right where he wants it. Bruce’s clothed erection rubs over his perineum, the head wet through the cloth catches on the slick rim of his hole and tugs.

Tony almost howls it feels so good. His mind awash in a haze of pink desire, of devastating heat, Tony arches into the contact like a wild thing. A smiling kiss is pressed against his neck and a familiar calloused hand wanders downwards to brush over sensitive pebbled nipples. Groaning, Tony catches his mate’s hand and moves those torturous fingers downwards to cup his balls, missing his touch on the delicate tissue-paper skin. Bruce smiles against his shoulder and suddenly Tony is strapped back against his solid chest. A restraining arm hauls him up on his knees so he straddles Bruce’s kneeling form back to chest. 

Nuzzling his neck appreciatively, Bruce’s fingers move once more to play deliciously with Tony’s nipples, avoiding contact where he wants it the most. Tony gives a frustrated moan and grinds back against Bruce’s dick, his slickness soaking his sweat pants in moments. Bruce doesn’t take them off though, instead the man spreads his knees, forcing Tony’ own thighs to spread lewdly. His hand travels down his stomach, over the hot line of his hairless cock and downward to his balls and Tony groans at the feeling. His head lolls boneless against Bruce’s shoulder and, turning his face into his neck, Tony nips unthinkingly at Bruce’s jawline. 

“Perfect,” Bruce sighs. “Absolutely perfect for me Tony.”

Tony spreads his thighs impossibly wider, rubbing his ass backwards and arching his back invitingly. Bruce growls his approval, a rare sound, and Tony knows he’s done something right when Bruce rips off his sweatpants and finally they’re sliding together skin against skin—as it should be.

Forcing him down on his elbows with his pelvis still firmly in his lap, Bruce exposes Tony’s private skin. Parting his cheeks with his thumbs, gliding through generous slickness, he blows cold air over the blushing rose-bud he finds there making it quiver. Tony moans and buries his face in the bedclothes, the skin of his neck going sex red. Arching his back into the touch, Tony groans loudly when a questing finger brushes over his slippery hole and presses inward, smooth and easy, before withdrawing. Tony clenches around the digit to try and keep it inside and sobs desperately into the bedsheets when it pulls out completely, heedless of his efforts.

“Soon,” Bruce promises in a voice low and dark with predatory desire. 

Tony’s so keyed up now he’s losing his mind and if Bruce doesn’t make good on his promise and fuck him soon he thinks he might actually explode like one of his more ambitious experiments.

Hot air blows over his ass—and when did Bruce’s face get down there?-- and a delicate tongue licks down his crack slowly, so slowly that time seems to crawl. It’s a tease, completely maddening, but full of tantalising promise that Tony couldn’t ignore if he tried.

 _Oh_ , he thinks, _this is much better_. 

Tony’s breathing speeds up and his hands clench in the bedsheets, his mouth opening and closing mindlessly with pleasure and anticipation. When Bruce’s tongue finally flicks lightly over his throbbing hole, Tony is so strung-out he moans loudly, instantly, at the sensation, wetness gushing out of him in a small stream that Bruce laps up with his clever clever tongue. Bruce gives a satisfied growl and Tony just arches further into the pressure and tries not to yell when the tongue licks firmly, deeply, and sends sparks of pleasure skittering up his spine. The tongue at his hole laves it over and over again until the sensitive skin feels almost numb with overstimulation. It’s only when Tony’s making helpless little moans on every breath and moving his hips unconsciously into the teasing tongue that it finally thrusts inwards. Tony yelps and tilts back into the movements of the smooth, wet muscle inside of him, feeling Bruce’s lips close over his hole and _suck_.

Tony screams. 

Once he’s inside Bruce doesn’t hold back. He holds his mate’s hips firmly and in a sure two-handed grip, hoists Tony’s pelvis upward so his face is buried in the crack of his ass. Arms slip around Tony’s waist and Tony moans as he is manoeuvred so he is resting in an upright sixty-nine position with his elbows bracing him vertically against the bed, preventing him from falling on his face. The new position lets Bruce’s tongue to sweep even deeper inside his ass and makes Tony whimper into the sheets. Gravity holds his legs open and an arm moves to lock his hips in place when he starts to squirm against the fluid muscle. It keeps Tony right where Bruce wants him, at the mercy of his hungry, claiming tongue.

It goes on for minutes, hours, days. He doesn’t know. All Tony knows is that by the end of it his hole is so open and stretched it’s obscene and there is saliva from Bruce’s exertions running down his thighs along with his own pungent thicker wetness. Tony can’t even bring himself to care about the mess he’s so overcome with desire. His cock is an angry red hanging suspended in the air, so hard it’s purpling at the tip and leaking viscous precum steadily down to his balls. 

Tony makes wordless, nameless sounds into the bedsheets and there’s a sob on every breath. Just when he thinks he’s going to finally snap and tell Bruce to stop, Bruce’s mouth withdraws with a final wet kiss to the exposed lax ring of his ass. Tony sobs, part relief, part protest and claws weakly at the bedsheets. 

He’s flipped quickly onto his back and the world spins for a dizzying few seconds as the blood rushes back to his head. He can only imagine what he looks like now. Sweaty, ravaged, dishevelled. Completely heat mad. For once in his life he actually doesn’t care. Looking up into his mate’s eyes he licks his lips and watches as Bruce’s eyes flicker downwards satisfyingly. 

“Please.” Tony husks and Bruce runs a rough-calloused finger over his plump lower lip. Tony sucks on it mindlessly.

“Please what?” Bruce coaxes because he’s apparently a _bastard_.

Tony yanks Bruce down by his open collar so he’s a breath away from his lips, cradled between his hips. “Please shove your cock in me and make me come,” he begs, too ready, too hopelessly _gone_ on this brilliant, generous man to play any more games. 

His man. His alpha.

Bruce.

Bruce smiles softly and all the hard edges bleed out of his expression. He has to be as desperately hungry for this as Tony but he kisses him slowly, gently, like he’s something precious—and this _this_ is why Tony loves him.

“Anything you want,” Bruce promises and reaches into the drawer to remove a condom. Tony watches him roll it on with baited breath, unable to stop moving his ass against the bedsheets shamelessly, desperate for some friction. God he’s so wet they’re probably going to have to throw them out once they’re done. That thought probably shouldn’t make him as hot as it does.

Bruce’s cock is a typical alpha cock: long with plenty of girth and a wide knot at the base. Tony can’t help licking his lips when he sees it though and Bruce grins at him.

“Ready?”

“I’ve been ready since you put your finger inside me,” Tony breathes and Bruce’s eyes go liquid dark.

“ _Good_ ,” he growls and pushes Tony’s legs up behind his ears, entering him in one smooth stroke.

Tony throws his head back and moans, lights dancing behind his eyes. Bruce is only three thrusts in when Tony wails and comes all over himself. Bruce doesn’t stop though, keeps going, pounding into him hard and deep until Tony’s cock rises up to curve against his belly again.

Bruce’s hands hold his hips with a gentle, mastering grip, showing exactly who’s in control without leaving a mark. Even caught up in this most vicious, primal act it warms Tony’s heart to know that Bruce is still worried about hurting him even in the most superficial of ways. 

Bruce’s pace increases as he gets closer to the end and Tony comes again before he gets there, moaning and shooting off on his stomach. Channelling some super human endurance Bruce manages to keep fucking him until Tony’s hard again and Tony stares at him, flushed and disbelieving.

“Did you take Viagra or something?” Tony wonders aloud and gasps as Bruce delivers a particularly well-timed blow to his prostate.

Bruce noses behind his ear, biting at his lobe and tugging playfully. “Maybe I just _really_ want to watch you come on my cock again.”

Tony shudders and feels how his cock is bouncing against his stomach, painfully hard. “I think that can be arranged.”

Somehow Bruce manages to fuck him _harder_ and Tony actually screams when he comes, vision whiting out, completely over stimulated and wrung-out like a wet towel.

Bruce follows soon after, thrusting one, two, three more times before spilling inside of him with a primal roar and locking them together deeply. Bruce flops onto his back, pulling Tony with him, careful not to pull at the place where they’re joined. Tony buries his head in Bruce’s neck and kisses his sweaty skin.

“Well done Doctor Banner,” he says, utterly and completely exhausted.

Bruce huffs a laugh. “Not a doctor,” he replies like clockwork.

Tony smiles and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Yet,” he says.

Bruce smiles at him. “Yet,” he agrees.

“Oh my god,” Tony says suddenly.

“What?” Bruce asks, the beginnings of a worried frown creasing his brow.

“I left my phone in the bushes. What if it’s not there in the morning? What if someone’s _stolen_ it? I need my phone Bruce,” Tony frets. 

Bruce’s face slackens and he gives Tony an amused look. “I think it can wait until morning.”

“But Bruce my phone has all of my things on it, my work, my contacts, what if--”

“Tony,” Bruce cuts in before saying more meaningfully and with all the best connotations, “ _It can wait_.”

“Oh,” Tony breathes, very much liking where this is going. “Yeah okay it can wait. I can work with that.”

Bruce laughs and pulls him down for a kiss.


End file.
